You're All I Know
by Simple Heart
Summary: Sequel to With One More Try, basically the story from Bones point of view. Slash McCoy/Kirk Disclaimer: I'm making no profit. I own nothing but the plot.


So here's the prequel/sequel to With One More Try. It's basically the story from Bones' point of view. Beta'd by the wonderful Lady Kiren. You rock! I hope you guys enjoy it!

_You always said you'd be here_

_Where are you now?_

_You touched the deepest part of me_

_The places I could not see_

_The blood that's on my hands_

_Where are you now?_

_I'm paralyzed I can't escape_

_Until I see your face…_

The day shift had ended and Dr. Leonard McCoy was only four hours into the second part of his double shift, and the words on his PADD were beginning to blur together. It wasn't like he was doing anything vitally important, just checking over supply shipments. It was something he 'should learn before stepping foot on a starship', he'd been told. The old gramps that ran the academy hospital just didn't want to deal with it, so they got everyone else to do it.

McCoy didn't mind taking extra shifts; he just preferred that they be busy so he didn't have to think. For example, he didn't want to think about a certain blonde haired best friend/ex-lover of his. That's right he absolutely refused to think about the idiotic, stupid, cheating bastard. So, just because they hadn't been official that didn't mean McCoy had to lay there pretending to sleep while Jim fucked someone through the mattress.

The sound of the ER doors snapping open jerked his concentration away from the supply lists. McCoy quickly got to his feet and ran towards the bed that the EMT's where wheeling in.

"Oh good, you're here Dr. McCoy." A nurse breathed, spotting him.

"We have a male, around 25 years of age, apparently got into an altercation at a bar. He has lacerations to his torso and forearms, possible concussion, and heavy bruising over the chest area with possible broken bones," an EMT spoke up as McCoy slid to a stop next to the bed, already in doctor mode. Something made him stop and take another look.

"Damn." He muttered, quickly doing a preliminary check of his own.

The face, though bloody and beaten, was still recognizable. The usually only slightly tamed blond hair was matted down and dirty, and the usually conniving blue eyes of Jim Kirk were stubbornly closed.

"Someone you know sir?" the nurse asked.

"Unfortunately," he replied, "let's get him under a scanner. If his brain's swelling it could be a problem."

McCoy shoved any thoughts other than those concerning saving his patient out of his mind. He would chew Jim a new one later.

It turned out there wasn't any brain swelling, however they did discover that there were tiny chunks of glass imbedded in the many cuts that littered Jim's pale body.

"Damn, what did they use to hit him with, a bottle? We need to get fluids and antibiotics in him, get an IV started. Oh, and page Dr. Mathers, I'm going to need some help getting all this glass out." McCoy ordered, probing the wounds.

Two hours later the injuries were stitched and bandaged. McCoy thanked Mathers before he quickly checked Jim's vitals. He was stable, with the worst injury being the concussion. The dermal regenerator would heal the cuts in no time.

"You are an attention driven moron," McCoy hissed at the still body on the bed.

He didn't receive a response, not that he was expecting one. The anger from the previous weeks reared up and McCoy whirled around stalking out of the room and through the ER doors. He needed some air.

"Excuse me sir."

He stopped and rounded on the speaker. Any angry retort dropped from his lips the moment he saw the mother and child.

"What can I do for you?" McCoy politely asked.

"A man with blonde hair came in a couple of hours ago. He looked pretty bad when they took him away. He protected us, at the cost of his own well being, and I was just wondering if you knew how he was doing?" the woman told him.

McCoy blinked a moment. Jim getting into a fight wasn't uncommon, and getting into a fight to save others wasn't much of a surprise.

"He'll be fine." McCoy told her. With Jim's stubborn ass streak, he'd be perfectly fine.

"Oh good, would you thank him for us?"

"Sure."

"Oh, and don't try to over think things. He's very sorry trust me," The mother smiled at him over her shoulder, before turning to hurry out the door.

With that they were gone, leaving McCoy confused. Was she talking about Jim?

He continued on outside, taking a deep breath once he was through the doors. He closed his eyes and leaned back against the side of the building.

"Jim, what am I going to do with you?" he asked the dark star sprinkled sky above him, tilting his head back and opening his eyes.

McCoy hated feeling this way. Thoughts and emotions all knotted and congested in his chest. He just wanted to get over this whole ordeal, the past month. He'd had enough of this shit after he'd gotten his divorce. Things needed to be sorted out.

First Jim was an utter bastard. Second Jim was extremely stupid and unlucky when it came to relationships. Third Jim was still a conniving bastard that had pushed him away when he thought things were getting too heavy. Fourth Jim was an utter fuck up. Fifth so was he.

Their relationship, if you wanted to call it that, hadn't really been the best to begin with. It had been a convenient sort of thing. To start with anyway, there was a reason you didn't fuck your best friend. Things got complicated eventually, like they both knew it had been bound to. McCoy would've settled for a gentle, 'I think things have gone far enough.' After his downright awful, got his heart ripped out and stomped on, divorce he hadn't needed the weeks of a different girl every other day. He knew Jim was no good with anything past a one night stand, and that love and monogamy weren't his strong suits. That didn't make the sudden and familiar rejection hurt any less. Finally fed up after the third week of different women and long days and nights without so much as a glimpse of the ladies man, McCoy had kicked Jim out. So Jim had moved, to where McCoy didn't know and really didn't care, though he still secretly hoped it was a cardboard box. Despite the bitterness and regret of being played, which had now somewhat faded, he still felt something. McCoy understood why Jim had done what he did, and he was willing to give them another shot, if just to get the chance at some payback.

McCoy wearily trudged back inside. Still unsure of where exactly they would be standing a few days from now. He finished his shift and went back to his room.

The next day he inquired about his 'patient' but let the nurses take care of the vitals, after all he had supply lists to finish. The second day hadn't shown much improvement in Jim's condition, and McCoy was beginning to get worried. By day three he was ordering another brain scan. The fact that it showed next to no swelling, wasn't the least bit comforting. By day four he just wanted Jim to wake up so he could yell at him. McCoy finally broke and sat down next to Jim's bed, just for five minutes he told himself.

"Dammit Jim!" McCoy finally exploded after two minutes of silence.

"Come on Jim, I need you to wake up," he admitted after three.

He got up and left by four.

He spent the next six hours of his shift treating a slew of victims coming in from a bad commuter accident on the coast. So he was a little strung out and very tired when a nurse ran him down and told him Jim was awake.

Anger flared back to life now that worry over his friend's life was gone.

"Thank you." He nodded tightly and made his way toward Jim's room.

Taking out his PADD McCoy called up the last supply list and began to go over it, just so he wouldn't try to kill Jim as soon as a he saw him.

He squared his shoulders and stalked into the private room. He tried to act professional but he could feel how tense his shoulders were and he couldn't stop himself from frowning.

McCoy refused to look at Jim's eyes, instead he spouted off some comment followed by the list of injuries that had been memorized.

"Bones-"

Looking up, he could see the regret in Jim's eyes and something twisted inside of him. He didn't want this right now. It was something that should be dealt with on a full night's sleep, not when Jim was high on painkillers and he was dead on his feet. So a hypospray was taken out of his pocket and before Jim could get out more than a word he was out.

McCoy slept fitfully in a chair in the corner of the room for the rest of the day shift and woke up to the last bit of light from dusk. The sedative was supposed to have lasted twelve hours, but he was lucky to get eight out of it. Jim was too damn stubborn for his own good.

McCoy stood up and stretched, walking over to lean against the wall at the foot of the bed.

"I should've known that you wouldn't stay down for long." He couldn't resist saying, while a somewhat evil smile twisted his lips. He really did love hyposprays.

He'd known this discussion was coming for awhile and the last four days had given him time, at least so he'd thought to come up with what to say. It turned out he hadn't been much better than Jim at saying what he'd meant, but eventually they both had gotten they're points across. McCoy gave Jim, and them, another shot. If they were going to screw up, they might as well do it together.

_Don't leave me all alone_

_You're all I know…_ -Mystery of You - RED

So? Was it a good sequel? Let me know. R&R Reviews = love.


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